


an airport is a place where you go through hell to reach your alleged paradise

by ffslynch



Series: Kuroo Week 2020 [1]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Character Study, Gen, Kozume Kenma is a Good Friend, Kuroo Tetsurou is a Mess, Light Angst, Pro Volleyball Player Kuroo Tetsurou, This is my Teacher Kuroo agenda, kuroo week 2020
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-17
Updated: 2020-08-17
Packaged: 2021-03-06 04:28:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,504
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25897435
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ffslynch/pseuds/ffslynch
Summary: Due to its inherited odd nature, airports truly are the best place to reminisce about the past and daydream about different career paths(10 pages of Kuroo having an identity crisis, aka Kuroo Week 2020 day 1: airport & special day: pro-volleyball)
Relationships: Kozume Kenma & Kuroo Tetsurou, Kuroo Tetsurou & Kuroo Tetsurou's Mother
Series: Kuroo Week 2020 [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1896280
Comments: 13
Kudos: 46
Collections: Kuroo Week 2020, Recommended KuroKen Fics





	an airport is a place where you go through hell to reach your alleged paradise

Kuroo doesn’t particularly believe in God or any other higher entity that might feel what has been depicted as human emotions, but at this very moment, he is starting to consider that someone or something up there is really trying to get revenge on him. 

It’s the very last hours of December 22nd, and he is hauled up on an uncomfortable chair, stuck on the airport in Osaka, waiting for his flight to Tokyo. Oddly enough, flying down from LA to London, and from London to Osaka was no problem at all, but in the one hour and a half break he had in between flights had been enough for the snow to get worse and his second, and last, flight get significantly delayed. Now he was just there, drinking overpriced coffee, afraid that his luggage might get lost, and dreading the unknown future with nothing to distract him. So much for going home for Christmas.

He should have known it was a stupid idea, to begin with. Christmas wasn’t even that much of a thing for his family, and his father would still probably work until late and Kuroo’s only chance to catch him for lunch on the 23rd was slipping away in the face of the delay. He wasn’t even sure as to why he had put so much effort into going back to Japan. Overthinking about packing, making sure he would get the earliest flight possible to spend the most amount of time. He had practically sprinted away from the court after their last game, with no time whatsoever to commemorate their win, and had been so anxious he had barely got any sleep. Even if he did get into the plain and made it to Tokyo with a reasonable time, he’d probably be so exhausted he would be just unbearable. Sleep-deprived Kuroo was his, and probably the world’s, least favourite Kuroo. He was picky, anxious, quick to annoyance and even quicker to anger bursts for no justified reason. No one would want him around if he didn’t get a decent amount of sleep beforehand. Kuroo lets his head fall back, against the top of the chair, his eyes closing. He takes a deep breath and tries to shake out the anxiety induced by lack of sleep, caffeine and overall discomfort, but his brain was a snarky little shit that never knew when to shut up.

And he knew, he just knew he would be overthinking this break. How he wouldn’t be working out as much, how different from his regular diet back in LA he would be eating, how some of his roommates would probably still be playing a bit with each other over the break, and he wouldn’t be training, how he would have to be active on social media to keep fans, and the media, entertained and interested in him… How he was living, completely stuck by a set of rules and standards he had never wanted to have. He had success and with every win came a new cloak of glory and euphoric satisfaction. But it usually lasted for a total of two days before wearing it off, and feeling of dread settled back when he thought about the next day and living like this for the foreseeable future, stuck to a hectic schedule that made no sense, on the other side of the world of the country he was born and captive of the judgment of other people. 

“If I'd become a professor, I'd still have my freedom,” he thinks, and the thought itself scares him enough to opens his eyes and stare at the bright lights hovering above him. Where did that come from?

I mean, sure he did have the required degrees for it, from his fast-tracked 3 years of college, while playing for a university team before officially going pro. He truly enjoyed the classes, and had chosen to pursue this particular degree as a sort of back up plan for a reason, but it hadn’t crossed his mind in so long he had honestly forgotten about it. Becoming a teacher had been a dream at some point, but it had been abandoned in favour of growing up, like many others such as having dessert for dinner, becoming a superhero and having his mother back. 

The shock and amusement are quickly substituted for guilt. Guilt for not being more grateful, more appreciating, more dedicated. Being a pro-volleyball wasn’t bad at all, it was the dream, wasn’t it? What he thought about it for so many nights growing up, how much he’d rather be on the court than in class or cleaning the house. The glory, the attention, the fun it would be. And truth be told, it was fun. It just wasn’t as fun as he thought it would be. Sure, he loved playing and meeting new people, and watching them - God watching the other players and learning from them was probably 60% of his satisfaction. But it was just so...lonely. It felt like it shouldn’t be. Playing for a famous team, being IN a team in general really, meant he was almost never alone. When he wasn’t on the court, playing, he was training or travelling with his teammates for other games. And when he wasn’t doing any of that, he was most likely doing interviews or magazine photo shoots, once again either with his teammates or completely surrounded by entire teams. He didn’t even live alone, sharing an apartment with other 3 teammates. And they were friendly and fun, fantastic people. Kuroo enjoyed talking strategy and watching games with them, talking about different plays and reminiscing past seasons. And they liked clubbing and partying a lot more than Kuroo did, sure, but he still went along and had fun most of the time. Listening to the loud music, feeling alive with the buzz of drinks and the tingly feeling on his sweaty skin from dancing, constantly surrounded by other people, always talking with someone, never alone.

But God, Kuroo had never felt as lonely as when he was in a room full of other people who wouldn’t even notice if he wasn’t there. 

The feeling is a constant, carving its place on his chest since he moved out to LA. It eats him inside out, regardless of how hard he partied or how cosy and close he gets to the people that he sees almost every single day. First he shrugged and blamed it on being a new environment, that he just needed to adjust, get more familiar with everything, create a new home and family out there. But the more time went by, the more it became undeniable that his efforts to feel like he belonged were fruitless. His team was alright but they weren’t family. 

He scoffs at this thought. What would he know about family in the first place? Dead mother, workaholic emotionally absent father, preoccupied and strict grandparents.

Guilt eats him alive once again. His grandparents had done their best to raise him, practically on their own really. They were just...old. They weren’t fit for raising a child, but they still tried. Hid grandpa had taken in many trips around Tokyo to watch Volleyball until Kuroo was eleven and deemed ‘old enough to be on his own’. His dad wasn’t all at fault as well. He just wanted to give Kuroo the best life he could have, and the best end of life possible to his own parents. So he signed up for long hours and stayed late and worked himself to the bone. Always getting home after Kuroo had already fallen asleep, out of the door before Kuroo woke up during middle school (and when High school came around, Kuroo was the one leaving the house at ungodly early hours), and so tired on the weekends that he barely left his room. Maybe he just assumed nice presents and funding school trips could be enough to be classified as successful parenting. Maybe gift-giving was his love language. Except is hard to give good gifts to someone you barely know, and at the end of the day Kuroo wasn’t sure if his father ever loved him. 

And as for his mother… God, he wasn’t even sure if he could delve into that. It took years of therapy for him to stop feeling guilt for her death. Of repeating to himself all the very reasonable health facts that he had been told. How she had always had fragile health, how she knew the pregnancy was a risk, but she decided to keep it -him-, how she barely went out to preserve herself and take care of him after he was born, how her body just couldn’t do it any more and God had other plans, and so she was gone a few months after his second birthday. Facts and science are irrefutable, solid, reliable. They can be trusted. But Kuroo was, as a child and even now, too filled with feelings to process this rationally. On the worst days, he still thinks it was his fault, he shouldn’t have been born and was so sure his father was never home cause just looking at him was enough to awake a monster of anger and resentment. He probably wished Kuroo hadn’t been born too. On his best days, he just didn’t think about his mother at all. Left her to disappear, forgotten in a mother-less childhood, changed her face for Kozume-San. 

He is 25, living the dream life. Pro-player to an amazing team that is recognized internationally, has a great house in LA with fun roommates, is always meeting the most incredible people, everything is as perfect as it could get. Except he is not happy at all. And he really should be but he is just not. He feels empty and meaningless and lonely…

And Kuroo is tired. He is just...so tired. All the time.

He was never completely sure where the exhaustion comes from. Sure, his career is a fairly strenuous one, since is mainly focused on a fairly active sport, but he eats enough and rests well when he needs, so he should be fine. All of his teammates are more than fine, having a fairly stable level of energy as well as plenty excitement for life in general. If life was a pre-measured recipe, Kuroo should be thriving just like his peers, as he followed all the rules and recommendations. Regardless of it, the fatigue had settles deep, nested in brain. It’s the contradictory juxtaposition of constantly giving all you have all the time and yet feel like you’re not doing enough. That has been his routine for the past year, and until that very moment it had seemed to be his only option for the future years down the line, until his eventual retirement…and then what? What was the payback for it? A fat bank account? A nice house that is too big for him, where he could live alone and unbothered? Even more alone? Friends he liked but didn’t felt like texting and hanging out with most of the time? The coldness of a bed in which no one else ever slept but himself? 

The dream of being a teacher sneaks in again.

Kuroo allows his mind to wonder about the possibilities. He does it because is almost 1am already, and his coffee has run cold and his back hurts, and he had nothing better to do than to left his head be filled with the most absurd ‘what ifs’. So he lets himself day dream about what could happen if he had chosen to actually use his college degree, if he did something completely insane and dropped everything and just moved back to japan to actually pursue this childhood whim. He could apply to teach at Nekoma, follow Nekomata steps (how he missed the old man), make the Battle at the Garbage Dump a thing again. He could watch students grow, help them become better. Analyse and formulate new strategies, watch as they take shape as players and as human beings. Make the high school court and the sport itself a safe place for those who just need to escape reality, to just be good at one thing, to learn how to trust and be trusted, how to belong in a team. He could lower the net for them. 

What once was a delusional concept takes shape, becomes more and more present in his mind. He can picture a nice classroom with chemistry puns on the walls, the old court room smelling like deodorant and cleaning products after the morning practice, a huge banner with their motto painted on the side. He could have an actual, regular routine, with home-made coffee and breakfast, without people shoving their cameras on his face. He could gather the students to watch games on days that were too hot to play and talk about strategy. He could teach them their old chant, and invite Kenma to the games, so he could watch the feelings of embarrassment- annoyance - endearment go through his face on the long span of 0.5 seconds, just quick enough for someone that had known him for over 15 years to see. 

Kenma.

If it wasn’t a daydream, Kuroo could actually see him in person again, and not just on occasional face time or on his weekly game streams. Maybe he could even visit him more than a few times a week, like when they were younger. Take him out to brunch on Sundays, drop by to annoy him enough to eat something during his classic 12h-straight-stream from Friday to Saturday. 

He could watch Bokuto’s games and visit him occasionally, maybe even invite him, chibi-chan, Yamamoto and Shibayama to talk to his hypothetical students. At the end of the semester, he could invite Akaashi to pull an all nighter with him, Kuroo correcting students final exams and Akaashi doing whatever his career as an editor required him to do. He could visit Kai and his wife, finally meet and spend some time with their baby girl. He could obligate Yaku to visit him when he came down from Russia, fight about strategies and then just chill watching dumb horror movies like they had done many times during their high school years. Hell, with how things were going he might even throw a hypothetical dinner party with everyone from Nekoma, make Lev take a break from his (shockingly) uprising career as model (maybe make him take his sister with him), ask Fukunaga to help him in the kitchen and talk about the challenges of teaching and taking care of children with Inuoka and Teshiro.

He could have privacy, structure, a home. He could do something that made a difference for society and small impressionable humans, and be reunited with the people that he had called family all his life until then, all at the same time. He could so many things…

“Dear passengers of flight 3608, please form a line to board” the voice filled the waiting hall, loud and clear. Kuroo looked up and blinked, as if waking up from a trance. The snow had dialled down and so the planes were finally able to take flight again. He looked down into his phone and let’s out a gasp. It was almost 2 am already, he had been in the airport for almost 6 hours now, 4 of them dreaming about having a different career. Kuroo gulped, and lifted his face in a weak attempt to scrub the tiredness away. Surprise smacks him in the face when he notices that his eyes were a bit wet. Had he really been tearing up just from imagining having this different life? God, he really must be sleepy (or unhappy - a tiny voice says in the back of his head, but Kuroo does his best to ignore it).

However, as he stands up, gathers his things and stands up to get in line, he is hit with a second wave of surprise. As he stretches his arms and lets his head roll over his shoulders, it becomes hard not to notice how much more relaxed he felt in comparison to when he had first sat down, like a weight was taken from his shoulders. The weight of his real life. Wanting or not, his fantasy had filled him with a relief, and relaxation he actually couldn’t remember when he had felt for the last time. 

The rest of the night (morning?) goes by in a blur. He gets in line, gets on a plane, sits down and stare at the darkness outside the window for all 2 hours and half that it takes for the plane to take flight, go from Osaka to Tokyo, and land. Stands up, gets in line, gets out of the plane and tries to hunt down a taxi. He goes to Nerima, but stays at a hotel. It would be too weird to just barge into his dads house at 6 in the morning, and although Kenma also lived in Nerima (on his own house now), he also didn’t want to bother him at such early hour in the morning. He still had some hopes that the younger boy would be sleeping, instead of playing video games well into the early hours of the morning like he used to. Hell, Neither Kenma nor his dad even knew he was coming, since he had bought the tickets and done the whole thing on a spur of the moment decision and then just tried to not think about it until the actual day of the trip. Back then, he thought he just wanted to surprise everyone but now it became rather obvious he just didn’t want to explain why he was going back to japan for the end of the year, instead of staying in LA with his alleged perfect life. When you’re a chronic overthinker, everything felt like defeat after a while. 

He lays down on the hotel bed and stares at the ceiling for a grand total of 30 minutes before giving up on sleeping all together. He needed coffee, badly. 

He grabs his phones and goes on Twitter and oh-

@KODZUKEN had posted a tweet 15 minutes ago complaining that his cat had woken him up after he ended his livestream at 3am. Kuroo sighs, disappointed but not surprised and if he was being honest, kinda relieved. He quickly shoots Kenma a text.

“Still Awake?” 

“dont judge me”

“Breakfast?”

“video chat?”

“nah, I’m on the hotel down the street lol”

The message check mark turns blue and not even a minute later his screen changes, an old picture of Kenma making a dumb face occupying the screen. Kuroo cackles and slides over to answer the call.

“Well, hello there!”

“Kuro, what the actual fuck?”

“Oi, language Kenma! What would your viewers think?”

“You’re clearly not as into my fanbase as you claim to be if you think my viewers don’t swear.” Kuroo rolls his eyes, but the fond smile on his face is pretty much there and although Kenma is doing the thing where he pretends he is annoyed, he has known him for long enough that there is a smile being hidden. “What are you even doing here?”

“End of the year break. My next game is only at the end of January, so I’ll have to come back on the 3rd, but still, thought it was good enough to come here for the end of the year, see everyone etc”

“Ok...Have you talked to your dad?”

“Not yet, I just landed and came to the hotel” He doesn’t need to explain to Kenma why isn’t staying at his fathers house. Kenma had been there for him through many crying, rage and drinking sessions to know very well the mess that was Kuroo’s heart when it came to his blood family in general. “So... Breakfast? My treat!” 

“Too tired to go out. Come over.”   
“Hohoho, having breakfast at the house of the world-famous Kodzuken, how special”

“You were literally the cover of Sports Illustrated like, two months ago”

“Yeah, but I was never asked to do an interview for Buzzfeed!! Or have my merch copied by knock-off stores! I don’t even HAVE merch!   
“People willingly buy t-shirts with your name on the back of it.”

“That’s irrelevant to this conversation.”   
“Are you coming over or not?”

“So impatient, Kenma” Kuroo says, but he is already standing and slipping on his shoes “I’ll be there in 10” he says with a wink, before hanging up. 

He gets to Kenma’s home quickly enough. It goes as well as it always does when you meet the person that has been glued to your side for most of your life and has seen you through all possible different states of emotions and dignity or lack there of. After almost a year of only having video chats and streams of either games or video games as a way to see each other and attempt to clench the empty hole that had been burned inside them by the 8,818.24 km of ocean and land that stood between their houses now. Kenma opens the door, letting out a quiet “hey’, Kuroo hugs him tight and Kenma complains he can’t breathe, but is the last one to let go.

They find themselves sitting side by side, knees touching under the kotatsu. Kuroo made them eggs with furikake and miso soup, to pair with rice that Kenma already had. They eat while catching up on silly things, even though they text each other constantly. When the eating part is done, Kenma sets some tea for both of them and Kuroo takes a big breath, drowning on the smell. Everything felt so much like home, like his youth. It’s not that he hated American food or anything, but God, how he had missed Tokyo and it’s culinary. 

“Kuro” Kenma’s voice interrupts his line of thought. Kuroo looks up, and he is staring at him, his eyes set and straight. Kuroo knows that look. It’s his setter look, his ‘I’m analysing every possible thing about you’ look, his ‘I’ll find any secret, darkness or weakness you might try to hide’ look. almost 20 years down the line and it still made Kuroo shiver to watch that on Kenma’s face, especially if it was pointed at him. “what are you doing?”

“Umm, enjoying my lovely tea, perhaps?”

“Why did you come to Japan?”

“I told you, for my end of the year break.” Kuroo replies, trying to keep his voice from shaking. Kenma knew him too well, this wasn’t what he wanted, he was going to see right through him, thought his ungratefulness and unhappiness and how awful he was.

“I don’t believe in you”

“What do you mean? Why are you being so suspicious?” The panic was quickly settling in now.

“Well, there is obviously something going on, so why don’t you just tell me?”

“It’s nothing” He said, trying one more time to make Kenma let it go, but it was useless.   
“Humour me.” Kenma says, face set and determined, his tone making clear he wouldn’t budge. Kuroo sighed, letting his head drop in between his hands, fingers messing up his head even more. How could he explain the inferno that has been going on through his head? Would it even make it sense if he said it out loud? Probably not. But then again, even if it was incomprehensible garbage, he was pretty sure that the only person that would make some sense of it was the one sitting right in front of him. Kuroo sighed, resting his head in one of his hands and holding the coffee mug with the other. He licked his lips, took a deep breath and gathered himself for the judgment that it was to come (cause Kenma knew him like the back of his hand, more than anyone else in the world, but that didn’t mean that he wouldn’t absolutely judge him) before finally opening his mouth to talk. 

“... I think…” He gulps, taking his time to process. It feels different to say out loud, to let it take shape outside of his own head. “I think I don’t want to play any more. Not in a pro level anyway. I want to come back to Japan. And…” His hands are shaking by this point. He feels so stupid, so futile and lost and ridiculous. “I think I want to become a teacher.” The words spill out of his mouth slowly, like melted iron taking over. The weight of 3 unsatisfied years and crushed grown up dreams and the dread of admitting that what he had aimed and worked so hard for during the last decade had actually been fruitless and so, he was giving up. 

So there it was, hanging in the air, for anyone that passed by to hear. Kuroo Tetsurou was a spoiled, ungrateful, quitter. 

Kenma snaps his fingers right in front of his eyes, causing him to go back to reality.

“Hey” he says, the huge golden eyes that Kuroo had grown familiar with staring right into him. “Come back to me.” Kuroo nods and takes another sip of water, nervously. 

“Sorry. It’s stupid, I know, I’m just going through a dumb phase, my brain is acting up and…”

“Is not stupid.” Kenma interrupts him, eyebrows furrowed. “Kuro, I know you. You’re clearly unhappy. Every time I see you, you look exhausted. Is like when you first got in college and was juggling 6 classes, a part-time job and your team, except you look like that every day of your life.”

“Damn” Kuroo says, letting out a humourless chuckle “No need to go easy on me or anything like that...”

“Kuro” Kenma says once again, finally capturing his attention. “Come home.”

“What?”

“Move back. You literally said you don’t like living in LA. So come back home.”

“Wouldn’t that mean I’m giving up?” he says, with a tired sigh. His head is feeling heavy, and he knows that there are tears prickling at the corner of his eyes, much like earlier at the airport. 

“I think you’re just following a different dream. There is nothing wrong with that.”

“Did you think I was a failure when I quit college to do streaming full time?”

“What? No!” Kuroo looks at him shocked “Of course not”

“So…”

“But it’s completely different Kenma! You love gaming, it’s like your favourite thing in the world, and you’re great at it! It made complete sense when you decided to do it full time because it’s something that makes you happy, and you feel good when you do it!”

Kenma simply stares at him. Almost a full minute goes by before Kenma sighs

“You used to be smarter, you know? I knew that moving and spending the whole day thinking about volleyball would make your brain go smoother” he says and Kuroo rolls his eyes

“Oh yes, this is why I crossed the ocean for, a straight up roast of my intelligence and personality. Great, really appreciated”

“Kuroo” His names comes out tangles in layers of both amusement and frustration. “I know you love playing, you obviously always loved it. But that wasn’t your favourite part of it. Sure, you had fun at the games, but you were always happier during practice, guiding everyone or learning with other teams. There is a reason why you were captain at all your teams, you were at your best when you help people. I’m not saying you didn’t play because of volleyball, but I don’t think the game itself was your favourite part of the whole experience. From what I remember, you were at your happiest when you were teaching it, more than anything else.”

It takes a beat, and then another.

And then it hits Kuroo.

Oh.

He really was at his happiest when he was helping his colleagues and teammates, wasn’t he?

“Fuck, Kenma” He says, his head falling down. He lets out a chuckle, but stays like that for a second. There are a few tears sliding down his face, and he isn’t sure if they’re from relief, fear or sadness, but he still doesn’t want to look up (not that he is under the impression that he could ever fool Kenma into thinking that he is not crying. He was already passing Kuroo a few napkins, the knowing bastard.). “What do I even do?”

“I already told you. Come home. You can cancel your contract, can’t you?”

“Yeah. I mean, I’d have to wait until the end of the season at least, and I’d have to pay one hell of a fine, but I guess I could do it.”

“So do that. And then move back, and then try to find a job as a teacher.”

“Simple as that uh?” Kuroo says, looking up. His voice is amused, but is filled with fear. 

“Simple as that” Kenma tells him matter of factly, and well, Kenma had never really disappointed Kuroo before with his analysis and previsions, and Kuroo was too tired to fight him. Too sleep-deprived, too exhausted from LA to fight it, and too much in need of some sort of hope for the future, so he just accepts it as a truth. He leans against Kenma, head resting on his shoulder.

“You really think I can do this?” Kuroo asks, eyes red and voice raw with fear, desire, hope.

“Yes, I do.” Kenma says, earnest and sincere as always. “You’re good at this, Kuro. Really good. Sometimes I wish you could see yourself the way me and everyone else does.”

Kuroo looks him in the eyes and although Kenma has always hated eye contact, he refuses to break it. He keeps looking into Kuroo’s eyes, grounding him for as long as he needed. It takes a while, but eventually Kuroo gives Kenma a soft smile.   
“Thank you.” he says, before letting it turn into a much more devilish grin “Ok, now roll over” he says, pushing Kenma down, so they’re now both laying on the floor, legs hanging under the kotatsu. 

“What?” Kenma asks, eyes frantic

“We’re sleeping. You’re obviously exhausted. Your eyebags are the size of the moon, it’s actually starting to creep me out. Vampire-ish is NOT your look.”   
“Excuse me, you’re not exactly looking like the prime of healthy and rested yourself” Kenma protests “And I know that I’m tired, but why are you sleeping here?”   
“Kenma!” Kuroo tells him, fake shock all over his face “I just had a midlife crisis and went through a process of eureka and finding myself for the past 30 minutes. I need my beauty sleep to recover AND to prepare myself for what’s to come!” Kenma watches him for a second, eyes wild and oddly intense, like a cat. Kuroo always felt a little bit naked, like his soul was too bare, when Kenma watched him like that. 

“So, are you really moving back to Tokyo?”

“Yeah. You’re going to have to deal with my beautiful face a lot more, sorry not sorry.”

“You’re unbearable” Kenma says, pulling the covers all the way to his nose, getting comfortable. “I bet you’re going to go back to barge in into my streams unannounced just like when we were in college”

“Will not”

“Will too”

“Will not”

“Will too”

“Whatever, your fans love me anyway” Kenma doesn’t dignify him with a response, because they both know it’s true, they do enjoy watching them both bickering. “You’re complaining but I know you’re going to give me a spare key”

“I need someone to help me with possible emergencies”

“Like?”

“Coming over with snacks when I don’t want to leave bed.”

“You’re the laziest human on planet earth” Kuroo says with a sigh

“You come to my house, at 6 in the morning, eats my food, invites yourself to sleep under my kotatsu, and disrespects me under my own roof…” Kuroo actually laughs and hits Kenma’s shoulder, cutting him off. He feels a bit like a little kid, reliving this scenario that had been so present during their childhood and teenage years. 

“Shut up, go to sleep” He says, voice soft and sleepy. A few minutes go by, but Kuroo is still awake, the engines in his head too used to never stopping, overthinking his actions and future consequences “Kenma?”

“hm” the bundle of covers by his side mutters

“Do you think I’m doing the right thing? ”

“Yeah, yeah I do,” The bundle moves, and a pair of golden tired eyes pop open to look at him “I meant what I said earlier, you know? Everything is going to be fine, Kuro” Kenma says, before yawning and disappearing back under the covers.

Satisfied with the silence, Kuroo finally closed his eyes, ready to sleep. He knew the next months would probably be filled with stress and tense conversations, but it would be alright. Kuroo Tetsurou was coming home. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! I definitely didn't think this would be this long but oh well lmao  
> As always, all feedback is appreciated and if you want to see me shitposting about Kuroo and yearning then you can find me on twitter @ffskuroo :)


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